


Sounds Like My Luck

by MiniNephthys



Series: Unlikely Hero [1]
Category: Fate/Zero, Yggdra Union
Genre: F/F, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniNephthys/pseuds/MiniNephthys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Had Diarmuid had expectations, they would not involve her Master being so pink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sounds Like My Luck

**Author's Note:**

> The dialogue from the first section is lifted from a RP [Nyx](http://www.plurk.com/missbiondetta) did with me - she did Diarmuid and I did Pamela. The rest is written by me.

Diarmuid tried to have no expectations of her Master: upon summoning, it was that much likelier that she would be disappointed, and she didn't want that. No matter what looks, age, or personality her Master had, the fact remained that they had legitimately summoned her and she would serve them faithfully.

Had she had expectations, they would not involve her Master being so pink.

Her knowledge from the Grail informed her that her Master looked more like the fairy tales told in the modern day than actual modern day mages did. From her hair to her pointy hat to her clothes and boots, almost everything was pink.

"Hauuu... you're even prettier than Pamela..."

Her Master, Pamela, says that first to her upon summoning her, pouting slightly.

Diarmuid bows her head. "My appearance is of little concern, my lady, so long as I am able to serve you in battle. I can only hope you will find my performance adequate."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do great! After all the greatest witch must summon the strongest Servant, so you have to be the best!" Suddenly, Pamela is chipper. Diarmuid already gets the feeling that this is typical for her. "What's your name? It's rude to just call you Servant."

"Then I will try to be a knight befitting your status." She bows again. "However, the other Servants will all be great heroes of different ages. Please do not take them lightly, my lady. --I am Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, of the Lancer class."

"I won't, I promise~ Diarmuid is such a cute name, it fits you," Pamela says with a smile.

"...Thank you." Diarmuid doesn't have any better reply for that.

Pamela bounces up and down on her heels. "Should we get started winning? Pamela's done some reconnaissance and there's a really easy target nearby." A broomstick appears in her hand (naturally, it's pink and flying) and she swings herself over the side of it, patting the back of it. "Time's a-wasting!"

Didn't she just warn her Master not to take the opponents lightly...?

* * *

Diarmuid doesn't consider Rider's appearance more than an unpleasant interruption. When he gets to talking about Saber's Master being the only one brave enough to accompany her Servant openly, though, a feeling of dread sinks through her. Her Master was surely-

"Hey!"

Pamela floats down on her broomstick from the rooftops where she was hidden. She's eye to eye with Rider, and very far off the ground. "Lancer said I should stay hidden! That doesn't make me a bad Master or her a bad Servant if I listen to - you're really tall."

"I am quite tall." Rider laughs, a booming sound. "Then I take it back! You are as good a Master as Saber's to listen to those with more experience than you. It's my Master that's lacking."

" _Rider_." The voice of an unseen and severely annoyed man cuts through the night. "I did not summon you to chat with your opponents."

Pamela zips to Lancer's side, but Rider merely shrugs. "You're too impatient. First, I want to see what that man who's still hiding has to say."

"-Hiding?" The air above a lamppost swirls and reveals a man as gold as Pamela is pink. "Hiding is for those with something to fear. I merely had no reason to be involved in such a pathetic display."

And yet he's become involved in just those words, Diarmuid thinks to herself.

"That has to be compensating for something," Pamela says, craning her neck upwards before seeming to remember that she can just fly up on her broom and doing so, leaving Diarmuid's sight.

After that, events happen in close succession. Berserker reveals himself and attacks Archer, Archer retaliates, Archer's Master calls him back before he reveals his Noble Phantasm too much, Berserker attacks Saber with not even a second's hesitation after his first target disappears.

Of course, Diarmuid interferes with the last of these. How can she allow her duel with Saber to be further interrupted by a madman? She slices through a thrown iron pole with ease and takes up a defensive stance before Saber.

Berserker doesn't seem much deterred. And Rider...

"Rider, what are you doing? Even the two of them would be no match for you and Berserker." Rider's Master's voice is clear, though Diarmuid still doesn't know where he is.

Rider shakes his head. "Berserker is more of an eyesore. I'll take him out first."

"I order you with the Command Seal-"

The next sound is not of an order. It is the sound of somebody being hit with a broomstick repeatedly.

Diarmuid can't help but smile as Rider asks with a grin, "What was that? It must have been 'do what you want, Rider'." He wastes no further time in running Berserker over with his chariot, leaving him barely alive enough to crawl away.

Pamela floats down to them after Berserker is gone and while Rider's Master is still huffing. "Maybe we should all go home for the night. I'm tuckered and Saber looks tired too."

Saber's Master covers her face with her hand. Diarmuid suspects she, too, is smiling. "I wouldn't mind if we retreated for now."

"We will finish this duel at a later time." Saber pauses and turns to Pamela and Rider. "I thank you both."

Pamela waves it off. Rider's Master only stops yelling when Rider sighs and disappears from view.

"C'mon, let's go home~"

"Yes, my lady." Lancer climbs on board the broomstick, something she's already gotten used to doing, and watches Saber and her Master disappear behind them.

* * *

Diarmuid has some issue with them flying directly into a group of Saber, Rider, Archer, and many, many Assassins, but Pamela is determined on it and it isn't as though she can steer the broomstick herself.

Still, she speaks up. "My lady, are you sure...?"

"They didn't invite us!" Pamela is pouting. "They didn't invite us and that's _so mean_!" She climbs off the broomstick and sits down next to Rider. "Can I have a cup?"

Rider scratches the back of his neck. "So many new guests at once! Very well, though you might want to be careful of-"

A dagger flies through where Pamela's head was a second ago and embeds itself in the ground. Pamela turns around and sticks her tongue out at the Assassins.

"-that."

Diarmuid is much more concerned about this situation. "My lady, we should really-"

"Don't worry about it! I'll deal with them, you drink." Pamela starts rooting through her pockets. "What've I got, let me see..."

Deal with it herself? Does she not realize what her Servant is even meant to do? Diarmuid stands as close to Pamela as possible, staring down the Assassins on one side - but if Pamela is their new target, she can only deal with attacks from that side...

"Got one!" Pamela pulls out a small card Diarmuid doesn't recognize and begins to chant something she also doesn't know. " _The demon of visions cloaked in damnation... her ashes fall like somnolent snow._ "

At the same time as the Assassins start to move, the air above their heads begins to glow and flakes of light fall upon them. Each one wipes at their eyes and tries to resist the magic cast upon them, but not a single one of them manages to even throw a dagger before collapsing to the ground, asleep.

"Lancer, you aren't drinking," Pamela chides. "Your Master told you to!"

Diarmuid takes one last look at the sleeping Assassins before turning back to the banquet. "Forgive me, my lady. May I have a cup?"

About the time that the Assassins start to wake, Pamela is very clearly drunk anyway and, with apologies to Saber and Rider, Diarmuid leaves to carry her Master home.

* * *

"That is _scary_ ," Pamela pronounces, looking up at the giant river monster and its tendrils.

Diarmuid would hate to say it, but she has to agree.

She feels useless just riding around the back of Pamela's broom and helping her fend off tentacles, but she can't walk on water like Saber and her method of flying isn't as capable as Rider's. At least she can do a little with her Master's help, instead of being completely stuck on the ground.

Still, they make no progress. When Rider volunteers to keep the creature in his Noble Phantasm for a while she should be able to come up with some plan, but she... can't.

Saber's Master's phone rings and she stares at it like it's something she's never seen before. "Um, ah... what, should I do with this?"

Pamela snatches it out of her hand and answers it. "Hello, who is this? -Pamela doesn't know, maybe?"

Diarmuid will definitely have to ask her Master not to speak in third person in the future, if they survive this.

"Mmhm, will do that. -Eh, really?" Pamela stares at the phone in her hand for a moment before handing it back to Saber's Master. "He hung up."

"What did he say?" Saber asks.

"Well, he said we should get Rider to drop the stuff in his Reality Marble somewhere specific when it ends. And he said to tell Lancer 'Saber's left hand is an anti-fortress Noble Phantasm'." Pamela turns to look at Diarmuid. "So Saber's left hand-"

"Is that true, Saber?" Diarmuid asks, interrupting her Master.

Saber nods in silence.

"And... it can bring down Caster's monster in one blow?"

"It is possible, but..." Saber speaks with conviction, as she knew she would. "Lancer, the weight of my sword is the weight of my pride. My injury from the fight with you is an honor, not a chain."

Lancer knows what she must do, but there is one person who yet could stop her.

She turns to look at Pamela. "My lady..."

"You want to know if you can save everybody so nobody except Caster dies, right?" Pamela reaches over and flicks Diarmuid in the face. It doesn't hurt, but it is suitably embarrassing. "Yes. Duh."

Grateful, Diarmuid wastes no time in gripping Gáe Buidhe with both hands and snapping it before Saber has a chance to protest. The curse in it disappears to the wind, and she smiles at Saber's shocked expression.

"I'm counting on you, Saber."

The plan works. Excalibur lights up the river and destroys Caster's monster in a single blow. Pamela quietly leans into Diarmuid's side as they watch, and Diarmuid wraps an arm around her without thinking.

She has yet to defeat an opponent on her own, and has sacrificed one of her Noble Phantasms. Yet her Master still is proud of her, and that is what she wanted from the beginning.

* * *

Saber waits outside Diarmuid's home one night. Pamela pops her head outside the door.

"Do you want to fight Lancer or do you want tea?" she asks. Behind her, Diarmuid muffles a laugh.

"The fight, please." Saber's voice carries a lighter tone than Diarmuid's used to hearing from her. "I appreciate your other offer."

"Good, 'cause I think Lancer wants the fight too more than the tea." Pamela leaves the door open for Diarmuid to follow; when she takes up a fighting position, Pamela makes her way over to where Saber's Master is waiting. "This is a good place to watch, isn't it?"

Saber's Master nods, and that is all that Diarmuid pays attention to the two of them in the corner. Turing her eyes away from Saber now would be both deadly and insulting to her now.

It's not that she doesn't know, even when the battle begins, what her Master is doing and saying. She knows without looking or hearing, because she can feel it in her body. Her Master is cheering her on with all she has in her heart.

For Pamela's sake, for Saber's sake, and for her own sake, she will give this duel every ounce of strength she has, as well.

The play of weapons is as beautiful as in any battle she has had in life. There was no fight she enjoyed so greatly.

It does not entirely surprise her when Saber deals her a fatal blow. No, that was one of two endings she would have been satisfied with; defeating Saber or being defeated by her. It only makes her sad when Pamela begins to cry.

"My lady..." she rasps.

Pamela sniffles, approaching her. "D-did you have fun, Diarmuid?"

"Of course." Saber has backed off to give them their parting words in peace, for which Diarmuid is grateful. "Did you...?"

"You were the best. The very best!" Pamela speaks with conviction.

The very best, some would say, would have brought the Grail to her Master. But if her Master is so sure she is the best, there was no reason for her to deny it now.

When Diarmuid disappears, she's smiling.


End file.
